


are they gay or european or occult/celestical

by alien_muse



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Because of course he does, Communication, Crowley has a, Fluff, Food Kink, Gen, Hugging, In one of which Crowley and Aziraphale are one person, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Parallel Universes, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Apocalypse, Queerplatonic Relationships, who is a demon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:10:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19460875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alien_muse/pseuds/alien_muse
Summary: It's a series of non-connected drabbles.The first one is on a beautiful art of Aziraphale and Crowley hugging.The second is a word-play on "They are an angel and a demon. They love each other, but their love is different".The rest follows the line of an idea that in the parallel universe Crowley and Aziraphale are a singular person (which was the original concept), whose name is Isaac (pronounced "ˈīˌzək", sort of like "Aizec"... It made so much more sense in Russian). Isaac gets into the well-known to you all Good Omens universe, meets the characters and makes some trouble.





	1. A new position

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnieLermont](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieLermont/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale had been reading a book, when Crowley sat next to him and said, "Angel, I've come up with a new position!"  
> "What position?" asked Aziraphale, a little worried. "What for? Don't tell me you're working on that Kamasutra again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was looking at this art (https://dotstronaut.tumblr.com/post/185800576023/my-heart-is-saying-dont-let-go-hold-on-to-the) and thought, "There are two ways to do this. 1) talk through it in advance, 2) suddenly settle behind a person." I'm not saying I was right. But I imagined both and found them pretty funny. Here is the first one.

Aziraphale had been reading a book that he thought was a prophecy one but turned out to be a quite enjoyable sci-fi novel by some XX century's author, when Crowley sat next to him and said, "Angel, I've come up with a new position!"  
"What position?" asked Aziraphale, a little worried. "What for? Don't tell me you're working on that Kamasutra again."

It made perfect sense that the day would come for Crowley to repeat the success of the first Kamasutra edition. At that time, the demon thought it would be fun to add a lot of impossible poses and watch human struggle with them, hesitant to ask for directions. Indeed, Kamasutra was a blast and brought a handful of souls to Hell through the years.

"Not for that!" Crowley waved his suspicion of. "Though it certainly needs refreshing, with all those new sex toys and... But no. It's not for Kamasutra. It's for us."

Aziraphale's concern not only suddenly returned, but grew significantly. He didn't know the demon was interested in that kind of thing.  
"Crowley, dear, I know you're a demon," he decided to start from afar. "And that your interests might cover the areas the usual angel doesn't even think about exploring." He was pretty proud of that little bit of speech, actually. "And..."

"Stop." Crowley raised his hands. It was difficult to see his expression through dark glasses. "It's not a sex position."  
"It isn't?" asked Aziraphale, sounding more surprised that he wanted to.  
Crowley froze. Then he said very carefully, "Did you want it to be a sex position?"  
Aziraphale blushed. "No, no. Of course not."  
"Good."  
"Good."

"So, the position," continued Crowley after the awkward pause, "is that I get behind you-"  
Aziraphale stared at him with disbelief. It sounded pretty sexual: the angel wasn't completely oblivious to human mating practices, especially after that dancing club. But Crowley said it wasn't...  
"- just between the wings and I take your hands in mine." The demon avoided Aziraphale's eyes by turning his face slightly aside, even though he was already hidden behind dark glasses. "And we should do it with our wings out," Crowley finished, visibly nervous.

"Oh," said Aziraphale, processing the mental image. "That sounds-"  
"-uncomfortable?" blurted out Crowley at the same time as Aziraphale said, "-nice."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"You said it sounds _nice_," Crowley stated.  
"Yes, I did." Aziraphale nodded. "It sounds wonderful. Delightful. Marve-"  
"Yeah, yeah, got it, you can stop." Crowley interrupted him and said before the moment became sweet enough for the teeth to hurt. "Do you wanna do it?"  
"Now?" asked the angel.  
"Now seems like the perfect time."

And it was. They were finishing up with the picnic, the sun was going down, painting the sky into red and pink, making it harder to read.

So, they tried the position. It was uncomfortable at first, especially for Crowley who had to do most of the figuring out and moving. But, when Crowley placed his hands in Aziraphale's, leaned his head against the angel's shoulder, closed his eyes and they were finally settled, he felt it was worth it a thousand times.

The wings were a pleasant addition, finally being able to stop hiding them, like letting out a breath they didn't realise they were holding. They weren't hiding. They were out in the open for everyone to see. They were in each other's arms, sharing each other's body weight, and it was _perfect_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I love good communication. It might feel uncomfortable to discuss hugs or other, more sexualized things, but it's in our power to make communication the new sexy.)  
> 2\. I based it on stereotypes about Kamasutra, know nothing about it, never seen it. Feel free to educate me in the comments.
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this little scene! <3


	2. Mismatching Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are an angel and a demon. They love each other, but their love is different.

They are an angel and a demon. They love each other, but their love is different.

Aziraphale's love is soft and light, the kind that makes you smile, lifts your spirit and doesn't require an answer, it's complete and it's _calm_.   
Crowley's love is anything but calm. It's not consistent. One moment he feels it covering him entirely, infects all the thoughts, plays with his soul. The next it's gone and it leaves an empty place in his heart. Crowley tries to hide it and gets away from Aziraphale when it happens because it's not how love works, does it. Crowley doesn't want the angel to doubt his feelings, to think that they don't matter.

Aziraphale is fine loving the world and people through books. In fact, he seems to avoid interaction with actual people.   
Crowley loves everything through action, through experience, through change. He has to interact with the world to taste it.

Aziraphale is content with anything they do together, even when it's nothing. It seems enough just to know that the loved one is there, alive and well, and when Crowley is near - that's only better, but the distance doesn't make a difference.  
For Crowley, distance is very important and he is rarely content with anything. His love is very particular about distance. Sometimes he wants to be as close as possible, pressing his limbs all over Aziraphale. In those moments, it's very handy that he can turn into a snake or be almost as flexible as one; it seems to amuse the angel greatly. 

Their love for each other is different but does it even matter in the end?


	3. Isaac (1)

She appeared out of nowhere, a woman of forty-something in a beige costume, nice-looking, with unusual white hair.  
  
She wasn't any of those things.  
  
She wasn't a woman, she was a demon; a creature from Hell.  
She was far from forty, more like six thousand and a couple of centuries tops.  
She wasn't wearing a beige costume, it was an illusion; she lost a real one, jumping off a cliff - a story for another time, perhaps.  
She wasn't nice. She was never nice, or, at least, those who saw her being nice kept their silence or were made to keep it forever.  
And, of course, there is a confusion with her "hair". If you looked closer and survived it, you could testify that on her head she had layers of white feathers, burnt on the ends.

Her name was Isaac and she was not of this world.

And "this world" isn't a euphemism for being from Heaven or Hell, Isaac was from another, parallel world because of course, they exist, otherwise, what would God do if she got bored? Break this one and start from scratch again? She tried but soon found out that there was no Ctrl+Z in the creation of worlds. So, she started using version-control.

This world was fresh-saved from the Apocalypse, there were plenty of life-forms left, plenty of music, of books, of cars, of tasty foods and places for sleep. Everything Isaac liked.

A lot of things Isaac disliked were also here, but she could ignore them for the time being. There were a lot of those things in the old world and somehow she and they lived through it. Well, they didn't in the end but the Apocalypse wasn't her fault. Not entirely.

Isaac walked the streets of London, indistinguishable from the ones she had known. All went down in flames, all the streets, all the cities; here, they stood unharmed. 

It was standard London weather (no weather and a shy rain), a standard London smell and a standard level of noise.

In a second, her ears caught a familiar sound. A 1926 Bentley.

She saw it, exactly like her own that was burnt in the fire: fast and absolutely gorgeous with some ginger dude behind the wheel. On the closer look, the man was a demon and he was rolling her car on the streets of London like she used to.

Was he _her_? Isaac smiled. That was full of possibilities.

He stopped the car on the road, right in front of her. Not because he noticed but because of the traffic. Being a demon, he could rule out the cars out of the way but chose not to. Funny.

Isaac took a closer look. The demon had a sharp face and short, bright ginger hair. A pair of dark glasses covered the eyes that were... He noticed her attention but only after she could take a peek at his cat-looking yellow eyes. She straightened up and tried to appear completely disinterested but to no avail.

One. Isaac fixed her jacket. Two. The demon opened the car door and said, "Get in". Three. She was sitting in the car, feeling the familiar textures of chairs and demonic magic. 

"Hello," said Isaac.

"Aziraphale, what have you done to yourself?" said the demon.


	4. Isaac (2)

"Aziraphale, what have you done to yourself?" said the demon.

"Шел, упал, проснулся - демон," said Isaac. The phrase was in the native language of a person who lived far away from London, but the weather was so similar that you would notice no difference in the first two seconds.  
The primary part of the sentence was a traditional saying in cases when you suddenly wake up with your leg in plaster, your wrist in handcuffs, your body in a stranger's bed and is especially useful with all of the above boxes checked.

"Very funny, angel, what've you been rea-" Crowley stopped. He felt something strange, but not something new, an absence of something. Of love. Affection, that practically surrounded Aziraphale and made the demon cringe in all the right ways. Or wrong, if you were a proper demon.

He didn't sense any warm fuzziness from a person sitting next to him. Speaking of it, Crowley couldn't feel any angelic presence at all.

What's happened to him? No, that wasn't possible. Aziraphale couldn't _fall_, surely he was too much of a good person to ever get a darkened feather on the wing. A figure of speech. This... _demon_ had a full head of feathers burnt on the ends. Even though it looked not so much demonic as, well, cute. It would look cute on Aziraphale to have some dark streaks. Damn, what the hell is he thinking about.

"Who are you?" Crowley finally asked, turning the wheel so they were going to St James. He had to show this wonder of a demon to Aziraphale.

"Isaac." A demon replied. "Who is Aziraphale?"

"Surely, you know who Aziraphale is," said Crowley, ignoring the red light. The passenger didn't seem to mind, following the movements intently with his eyes. "The Apocalypse? He stopped it. Well, _we_ stopped it."  
"And you are?" asked Isaac. "Bad memory on names," he explained after a sceptical look.  
"Crowley. We were number one and two wanted persons on Hell's and Heaven's lists, both," he added somewhat proudly. Well, he did say that Heaven and Hell will forget about them fast, but not so fast. It hasn't been a week!  
"Bad memory on faces," said Isaac.

To be completely honest, Crowley didn't remember either the name or the face of Isaac too but refused to admit it out loud.

They reached St James within minutes and not one time had he heard a complaint about going too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Шел, упал, проснулся - демон" is a phrase in Russian. In its original form, "Шел, упал, проснулся - гипс" and variations, it means "was walking [down the street], stumbled and woke up with a limb in plaster". Sorry not sorry, *peace sign*, I'm Russian and I couldn't walk past this pun. Could you resist saying "I just was walking [down the street] one day, stumbled and woke up as a demon"?


	5. Isaac (3)

Aziraphale was standing at their usual place and observed the ducks. Crowley felt instantly better, surrounded by angel's aura of affection.

"Hello, angel. Meet Isaac," said the demon and got ready to eat metaphorical popcorn.

"Hel-" Aziraphale faltered in the middle of the word. His eyes made perfect circles.

And oh, there was something to look at. Someone. Someone, who, from the white head to the lapels of the beige jacket, down to the toes looked terrifyingly similar to Aziraphale. To Aziraphale, that is, if the angel had a female body that was, well, smaller and bigger in some certain areas.

"Hello, Isaac," he managed to force out a smile. "Nice to meet you. Crowley, what is the meaning of this?" His tone didn't sound so nice anymore.

Crowley spread out his arms. "Met... her, isn't it?" Isaac nodded. "Ten minutes ago myself. Maybe it's Aziraphale 2.0?"

Aziraphale didn't look happy with his answer.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Honest, not my prank. Not even my idea, though quite good nonetheless. Didn't think anybody up there has got a sense of humour."  
"Then maybe it's demons' work," suggested the angel.  
"Nah, ours have a different... understanding of what is funny," dismissed his idea Crowley. "They would more likely blow us up."  
"Perhaps, we should ask the d- Isaac," said Aziraphale.

They both simultaneously looked at the demon, finding her happily feeding the ducks with Aziraphale's bread.

"Do you know why you look so similar to me?" asked the angel, as always astonishing Crowley with his naive boldness.

Isaac raised her brows. "I might be a parallel world version of you." She shrugged. "The demon version. In our world, I tried to prevent the Apocalypse, but Hell and Heaven still fought and pretty much destroyed the world in the process."

They both stood silent for a minute.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else for the talk," proposed Aziraphale. "There is a new sushi restaurant, it's got brilliant reviews."  
"Sushi?" Isaac shrugged. "Okay, I don't care."

"See, she is nothing like you," tried to cheer the friend up Crowley. "She doesn't care about sushi."  
"I like sushi," said Isaac, instantly attracting attention. "I just don't eat them in public places."

"It's a perfectly high-class establishment, I assure you!" exclaimed Aziraphale. "They follow sanitary guidelines to the dot and you won't be disappointed by the taste, I promise, you will like it."  
Crowley rolled his eyes at Aziraphale trying to tempt a demon to a sushi restaurant.

"It's not that I worry about myself," said Isaac.  
They both looked confused.

She sighed, angrily, and started to unbutton her clothing, which didn't help. If anything that made their confusion worse.  
Aziraphale started to look around, worried that anyone would notice. They were in a public place, for heaven's sake. They could get banned, couldn't they?

Then, they saw what was under the shirt. It was supposed to be skin, or scars. They weren't prepared for the mess that was her... stomach? Aziraphale quietly gasped and turned away. Crowley examined it closer. There were bones. And flesh. Nothing bled. It was a strange view, a human couldn't survive like this, not for long.

The wound, if you could call it a wound, looked as a result of a nasty crash. Crowley caught an image of a falling bird but it quickly disappeared from his mind. She really had _fallen_, he thought.


	6. Isaac (4)

When they were walking to the car, Crowley noticed quite an interesting detail.

Isaac went ahead, not used to slowing down for anybody, but the important thing was what he had the chance to spot because of it. The way she walked.

Crowley didn't catch it on the way to the park, partially not paying attention, partially walking alongside, partially used to it. But this time, after Isaac suggested the idea she was some kind of version of Aziraphale, he noticed.

That wasn't how Aziraphale walked.

Crowley demanded the angel's attention without making a sound. When it was caught, he intently stared at Isaac's figure, then back at Aziraphale, who raised his eyebrows, puzzled. Crowley did it again, this time pointedly looking at Isaac's legs. "Look at the way she _walks_, her hips moving. Doesn't it remind you of someone?" he thought, wishing he could use his telepathic abilities. Upon returning his eyes to the angel, however, Crowley met a gaze, full of holy indignation.

"Why are you staring at my...?" Crowley could easily read in that gaze. "I mean, not _my_... My parallel version's... The point is, you are a demon, not a human... You understand what I mean."

Crowley took a deep breath and couldn't resist doing an even deeper facepalm.

They got a table without any trouble. Aziraphale was unusually quiet, probably shocked and full of sympathy for Isaac. Crowley could see on his face that for a moment Angel hesitated if it was polite to eat at all but soon dismissed the concern and got to business. That is, to choosing the best thing on the menu according to A. Z. Fell.

Crowley took his usual pose for watching Aziraphale eat. To him, it was an almost bizarre idea at first, to eat without needing to. Crowley liked bizarre ideas.

Isaac was looking at sushi with a badly covered painful expression.

They both watched Aziraphale eat.

"That feeding kink pair again," Crowley caught the waitress’ thought. She looked somewhat familiar. "And with a girl. I thought they were gay? She looks like the white one’s sister, though. Surely, they won’t?.." There were lots of pictures in her head that could make Crowley blush if he hadn’t seen his share in six thousand years.

The twenty-first century was something else, however. Feeding kink, really? Do people really enjoy watching another eat, sexually? Does it have anything to do with mirror neurons?..

Crowley returned his gaze to Aziraphale and observed the careful ritual of putting food in the mouth. Sushi seemed like _work_, both the cooking and the eating part. Aziraphale made it look easy. 

Maybe he had a food kink. Not feeding one, because he didn’t pay for the meal.

Crowley couldn’t help but smile at that thought.  
Aziraphale smiled back.  
The girl’s mind produced a new portion of images.

"So, in your universe, the Apocalypse did happen," said Crowley instead of shutting down the waitress’ mind.  
"Not quite," Isaac said, switching her attention to Crowley instead of Aziraphale. "The Antichrist changed his mind last minute. There was his dad, though, you know, the Satan one but he changed it so there, basically, wasn’t any son of Devil in the first place." She spread out her arms slightly. "But the armies of Hell and Heaven weren’t happy they were deprived of the Grand Battle. So they fought anyway. Same result as the Apocalypse."  
"Aziraphale stopped them," interrupted Crowley proudly. "He asked them either the fight was the Grand Plan or the Ineffable one. Because no one can understand the Ineffable Plan."  
"And that worked?" Isaac raised eyebrows in disbelieve. "No way that would have worked. Impressive."  
"Gabriel and Beelzebub stood down the armies."  
Isaac hummed. "Oh, right, those two."

"The thing I don't get," said Aziraphale just after he finished the last bite. "Is how did I- you fell."  
Isaac shrugged. No demon likes to remember the fall; it wasn't pretty for her, Crowley could tell.  
"I didn't so much fell as..."  
"...saunter vaguely downwards. Sorry," Crowley raised his hands. "Please, continue."  
Isaac gave him a suspicious look and made a dismissive gesture. "What he said."

They stayed quiet. Aziraphale, no doubt, was processing the fact that in one version of reality he fell and wasn't able to enjoy fancy restaurants, deducing that the two facts were somehow connected. Crowley was overthinking the theory that Isaac was them both glued together and scrolled through a grinder of time. Isaac was looking at Aziraphale's empty plates with an unreadable expression.


End file.
